


Midnight City

by capponi



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Sex worker Will, Smut, sex therapist Will, yes another one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capponi/pseuds/capponi
Summary: What sort of person had put this together? Time to find out. Will moved, bare feet and whispering silk making almost no noise, to ascend the stairs and meet his client.I planned for this to be a random, plotless interlude to keep the writing muscles going while I finish further chapters of my other WIP works but it seems to have grown smutty little legs and taken off...so thought I may as well post it up here for others to enjoy if they wish!
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	Midnight City

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a random one. Of course it's an AU, it's me...but nothing too involved or convoluted. Will is a sex therapist of sorts, Hannibal is a discerning client with very specific tastes.

The townhouse was large and imposing, no lights at all showing from the lower floor windows and only a subtle, low glow between the curtains of the first floor window facing the street. It was an affluent area, not one Will had been to before but he knew of it by reputation. The house itself he had already discovered was a short-term rental - he had found the address on OpuLoft, essentially an exclusive version of Airbnb, after searching the details tonight’s client had messaged him and could see it was booked across the night of their arranged meeting. That in itself didn’t concern Will too much - people often did not want to have the sort of sessions Will offered in their own home, to be seen and known on that level, to have mundane domesticity surrounding them while they tried to lose themselves. 

The extra layer of anonymity did of course resent potential risks. Will made significant income through the therapy sessions he ran, and he spent some of this on private security. He logged the details of every home visit with the security firm he had contracted and had to check in with them within 2 hours of the expected session end time or else they would come to investigate. He had a password indicating all was well, and one indicating he was under duress and needed immediate assistance. They were able to track his phone’s location is required. He was very cautious. He had found that he had to be.

Heading up the front path and ascending the few steps to the front door with quick, light strides he tapped back into the message thread with tonight's client, identified only by the username  _ Jericho  _ \- they had sent him the key code combination to let himself into the property. The soft clinical beeping of the number pad seemed loud in the silent, windless night around him but the door clicked open with a quiet mechanical thunk as he hit ‘OK’ and he slipped into the cool, dark of the house. Without even the wan light of the streetlights, it took a few seconds for Will’s eyes to readjust to the deeper gloom. When they did, he saw a package sat on the bottom step of the staircase ahead of him - it was carefully but loosely wrapped in thick tissue paper, glossy to the touch as Will whispered his fingertips across it to pull it loose. Inside there was a smooth, unmarked wooden box a little larger than a shoebox and, nervously cracking it open, Will saw something light inside - a luminescent ivory colour - which revealed itself to be an incredibly elegant mask. Looking up at him from his hands was the placid face of a doe - black almond eyes glimmered even in the incredibly low light thrown down the stairs from the upper floor with a look of both serenity and unnatural knowing. The mask was only a half face mask, it seemed to be made with a very realistic smooth pelt which was a lustrous ivory white in colour and was topped with large sloping ears, held back as if listening keenly to a far off sound. It was beautiful in a very pure, otherworldly way. It was also a little creepy. 

Turning it over in one hand to work out the fastening, Will saw a flutter as a folded note fell from inside the mask and landed on the toe of his boot. Opening it, he read over the smooth copperplate writing quickly.

_ There is a comfortable bathroom to your right. Shower thoroughly and apply the lotion you find in there to your entire body. Dress yourself in the items from this box only. Only then may you ascend. You will know which door to enter once you arrive - please knock once before entering. These preliminary terms are non-negotiable - follow or leave. _

Will only quirked an eyebrow as he made his way through to the instructed bathroom carrying the box with him. It was not unusual for his clients to have very specific demands and set the parameters of their sessions very specifically - it pretty much came with the territory of what he offered. He called himself an intimate therapist on the simple site he managed his trade through, and while he was not entirely happy with that description it seemed to fit the work best. He was incredibly intuitive, empathic...and had found a way to make these skills incredibly lucrative. The term was not trying to be deliberately coy - he was very open on his site that the range of services could happily include a variety of sexual aspects - but to recognise and be inclusive of the fact his services ran across the intersection of mental, physical and sexual needs. The majority of his clients required aspects of all of these - while the acts may be purely sexual or at least physical what they paid Will the big bucks for was his ability to understand the mental landscape driving their needs and therefore being able to build and elaborate on the specific asks of the client to meet needs they hadn’t even realised they had. 

Will knew being able to have complete, unchallenged control of the session was a very common shared need across his clients and he was careful to always follow given instructions and boundaries carefully and to the letter. So far, the demands of tonight's client were not unreasonable although Will still found himself both drawn to and repulsed by the eerie mask - so much so, he placed it back in the box while he showered and rubbed in the rich lotion. The lotion sank in like hot butter, releasing a wonderful sweet smell like orange blossoms and ginger and left his skin feeling soft and warm. 

Reaching to pull the mask out again, he realised what he had thought was a silky lining to the chest was in fact a long robe - whisper thin and the exact same lustrous shade as the mask’s pelt. Pulling it on he found a thin red rope tie and secured it around himself he looked in the full length mirror - it covered very little, being largely transparent, but blurred his nudity to coquettish suggestion. It had been selected by someone with a rather whimsical appreciation of aesthetics over function he suspected, as he couldn’t deny the dewy sheen of the luxury material gave him a slightly ethereal quality. He took a breath and finally pulled the mask into place - finding it fitted almost perfectly - and tied it in place with his head bent downwards. He had not expected to be able to see much through the dark almond eyes but it appeared they were made from some form of glossy treated glass which allowed almost perfect vision when looked through, only a little shaded.

He took a breath, stepped back and looked at the final result of the instructed preparation. His next breath caught in his throat and the stutter seemed loud in the silent house. The full vision come together was really quite striking. The beautiful docile doe looked back at him, the smooth pelt of the mask smoothly transitioned where it met his skin across his cheeks almost seamlessly - it was as if he was truly part animal. Combined with the unearthly look of the gossamer robe he felt...unnatural. Ghostly. Absolutely singularly beautiful. 

_ What sort of person had put this together? _ Time to find out. Will moved, bare feet and whispering silk making almost no noise, to ascend the stairs and meet his client.

At the top of the stairs, Will was faced with five doors - two to the left, three to the right. Four were dark, light shined from around the edge of the first door to his right though. This must be the one, cracked slightly ajar but utterly silent beyond. 

Will knocked once, as per the instructions, waited a beat and then gently pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The bedroom beyond was large and looked very tastefully decorated - as far as Will could tell anyway, as many of the pieces of furniture had been artfully draped with sheets, having clearly not measured up to the taste of the client. The client he was finally coming face to face with. Or...mask to mask, it turned out. Stood beside the bed, arms folded behind his back and head tilted slightly as he regarded Will silently and watchfully, was a man who had made himself Will’s exact negative. Body covered in a simple black robe and face covered fully with a dark ebony mask - his darkness almost seeming to leech the light glowing off Will’s ivory ensemble. The dark mask covered his face right down to his chin, more humanoid in the facial features than Will’s doe with open eyeholes through which the glimmer of the human eyes beneath showed. A pair of great, twisted antlers rose above, a brutal frame for the strangely elegant and smooth features of the man-beast face below. 

Concealment to the point of pageantry were key to this client, Will catalogued. It was certainly common for clients to conceal their own faces or bodies from Will but it was rare that a client wished to conceal Will too - to so carefully build him into something new. When it had been done before, it was clear the client wished to hold another in their mind when with Will, or create memories with an anonymous body they could later recall with any range of other faces attached. That Will understood. This, he did not. Not yet. 

Will had not been instructed beyond this point, and so he did not move. He simply stood and allowed himself to be regarded. The client took his time in doing so - not speaking yet, finally turning and walking a few steps to a sleek looking sound system. Soft music started, speakers cleverly concealed around the room filled it completely with the sound. It was something classical, not something Will recognised, starting very gently and slowly. A piano leading, strings moving to accompany. 

The client moved back to the exact spot he had started and, finally, spoke. His voice came clearly, not muffled by the mask and yet somehow it sounded altered - deep, resonant, cleanly cultured in tone but in an empty, mechanical way. Perhaps something built into the mask, voice alteration. Further concealment, layer on layer. 

“Thank you for following my instructions fully to this point. I require the same as we proceed. I do not require you to speak at any point during your time in this room. You may of course stop and leave at any point you wish, but you will do so silently and I will make no move to stop you.”

Will blinked mutely.  _ Well _ . While he was used to the other party wishing to take control in their session, he had never been made to feel quite so much like he worked  _ for  _ the client and not with. Will was not sure if nodding was acceptable but he had not been specifically told not to, so he gave one firm nod to indicate he understood.

The client nodded in return then moved to untie the loose fastening and push his robe back off his shoulders, letting it pool around his feet with a soft whisper of silk across air. He was naked now except for the mask, not looking to see the robe fall or change his posture at all when revealed. He had the stance of a man supremely confident in himself without seeming overly vain, rather he knew his body well and was objectively aware of the sleek strength of it. Will could not exactly question the confidence - he really was quite a fine specimen. Lithely built with compact and wiry strength, his body spoke of discipline and purpose - there was a pleasing broadness to his chest and shoulders yet something more delicate in the slim, dextrous fingers and the softer planes across hips and stomach. Pleasing contrasts. The low warm lighting in the room picked out dips and curves, darkened further the coverage of his chest hair, the trail downwards to where Will’s eyes were inevitably drawn. The man was not hard yet but Will could see another reason why the man was quite so confident in his own skin. 

Objectively there should be something rather ridiculous about a naked man with only a strange stag’s head mask on. Yet it was not remotely ridiculous to behold - it was enticing, imposing, almost intimidating.

The client moved then and Will realised he had simply been silently ogling with some embarrassment - quickly followed by the comforting realisation he had not been instructed to do anything except that. The stag-headed man slid backwards onto the large bed, never turning his back to Will but moving gracefully to recline on his elbows in the very centre propped up against the plush pillows lining the headboard. Will noticed the bed was made up neatly with thick, creamy sheets but there was no other blankets or duvet in sight - a strange detail, but it was not as if they were here to sleep.

“Come forward, stand here by the bed.”

Will obeyed silently, steps slow but steady.

“Remove your robe. Let it fall.”

Will obeyed again, aiming for the same nonchalance in the action as the other man had shown. Will was neither shy nor confident in his nudity; he sat comfortably in the middle ground. His body - when in a session - was a tool of his therapy and he thought no more or less of it than whether it was suitable for the requirements of his clients. A combination of genetics and a slightly chaotic lifestyle meant his frame tended to the slim, but he had strength with it. Clean lines, neatly built, nothing particularly stand out or distinguishing. A blank canvas, he liked to think. He could not get any read on whether his client approved or otherwise as he was himself slowly and leisurely examined, dark eyes glittering behind that dark mask.

The client relaxed further back on the pillows - Will noticing there was something precise and planned in the positioning to ensure the fierce looking antlers did not knock or scratch the headboard - and spread his legs wide, knees bent and feet placed firmly on the sheet. The music he had put on was building now - moving from the gentle opening to a more structured movement and the client rolled his head very slightly side to side in time as it built. After a few beats, he spoke again.

“Climb onto the bed. A little warm up for our first session, I think - I wish you to manually stimulate my prostate, no more than two fingers. I am already prepared. I will tell you when to stop, do not stop until I do.” 

_ Down to business _ . Will slid onto the bed himself, moving to kneel between the amply spread legs of his client - long, lean body lying loose around him and seemingly now engrossed in the music rather than paying Will any particular attention. At least this first session seemed to be on solid ground - he knew this was a request he could fulfil well.

Will placed his hand to curve around the back of the man’s thigh - the first time touching him and he felt the spark of connection - with something like relief he felt solid and warm flesh, at odds with the rather otherworldly nature of the evening so far. He was, underneath it all, a man. And Will knew how to please a man.

He got to work quickly - slow enough to ensure appropriate preparation and minimise any discomfort but not enough to be considered teasing or coy - and found himself also zoning into the hypnotic melody of the music playing in the room as he moved his fingers, curling them towards himself smoothly and rhythmically after finding the elusive spot inside. The music seemed an integral part of the session for his client so Will tried, without being able to ask directly, to understand why and work with it. Where the music built and sped up, so did he in the pressure and speed of his ministrations. When the piece then fell to quieter, slower notes he switched to featherlight touches and gentle stretching over direct stimulation. 

The client was slowly hardening now and it was almost mesmeric to watch as his cock flushed and rose in time with the ebb and flow of the music and Will’s movements and Will felt himself slipping into a trance, every sense heightened. The growing warmth of the room was unleashing the heady smell of the orange blossom lotion on his own skin to mingle with the subtle cologne of his client - something smoky and spicy, like a crisp October evening. The music was rising again now - building to the crescendo of the piece it felt - and Will leaned further forwards on his knees, balancing his weight on one hand while the other began to really build the pressure of his firm, curling strokes inside the client. In response, the stag-faced man dropped one knee further out to the side and rose the other foot to press against Will’s shoulder - opening himself all the wider. The client was surprisingly quiet, although his intensifying arousal was clear from the ever darkening flush of his cock, glossy at the tip now, and the quickening of his breathing - chest rising and falling faster now, nipples dark and peaked. He was a vision of unashamed hedonism, prostrate and demanding pleasure. Will felt like a pious believer kneeling at the temple of his deity, felt for the first time ever in such a session the iron grip of his control slip and recognised embers of true desire beneath his professional duty. He was a starving man presented with a feast but forbidden to taste. Although the feel of those hardened nipples against his tongue would be sweeter than any dessert, the slide of the slick cock against his throat more fulfilling than any culinary course imagined. The flash of primal  _ want  _ flared like magnesium in a flame before Will could snuff it out, focus himself purely on his task here and quash his private desires which had no place or welcome here. 

One, two, three more rolling, stretching, curling gestures of Will’s clever fingers and the tipping point was reached - the client used the foot pressed into Will’s shoulder to lift his hips and widen himself even further, adding gentle rocking motions as his hands slid back over the smooth sheet. Will assumed he would be reaching for his as yet untouched cock to bring himself over the edge but instead the long, slim fingers slid over his own chest, caught the dark nipples and squeezed roughly in time with the sliding pressure of Will’s fingers. 

The music soared, the client gave a graceful curl of his hips and was coming, abdominal and thigh muscles tensing deliciously as his orgasm rolled through his body. Pearlescent beads of his release glowed in the low light across the flat planes of his stomach, hovered and trembled with his breathing where they had ensnared in his chest hair. Will slowed his movements as he gazed in mute wonder at the vision before him before he quickly remembered his instructions -  _ I will tell you when to stop, do not stop until I do.  _ He increased his inner strokes again, less pressure and slower than the build up to orgasm had been but surely still uncomfortable while the client must be so sensitive. He anticipated being told quickly to stop, but the client - although trembling and giving small, jerky bucks of his hips - stayed silent other than an increased harshness to his exhalations. Will marvelled at the stamina displayed, tested with a little more pressure, a slightly wider spread of his fingers, now a little faster. His wrist and fingers were aching now but he felt as if, were he asked, he could stay here teasing orgasm after orgasm from this strange, theatrical client for as long as it took to satisfy him.

Finally, the trance state was broken though as the client brought his thighs quickly together, pressing the toes of both feet to Will’s chest and gently pushing him back.

“You may...stop.” The client’s voice was surprisingly composed, if a little breathless and raspy. He lowered and stretched both legs out either side of Will’s kneeling form with a long, satisfied exhalation. 

Will stayed completely still for several long beats, his own breathing slowing in time with that of the clients as the strange spell of the session was finally lifted and the music ended with a gentle final refrain. In the silence that followed, there was only the sound of breathing and of Will’s blood humming in his ears. He slid his hand to his own thigh and pinched the skin hard several times where it was softest and most sensitive, his own hardness reluctantly being brought back under control. It was hardly a professional end to such a session if the client looked up to see him breathless and erect - this was not about Will. 

However, the client did not look up. He issued Will’s dismissal quietly and politely, head still laid back and no noticeable glimmer of eyes visible behind his own mask.

“You may leave now. Redress in the robe; keep your mask on until you are downstairs. Leave both the mask and robe in the box you found them in. Goodnight.”

Will slid off the bed, the client not moving his leg to ease his departure and making Will climb slightly awkwardly over his shin on the way. It was as if now the session had completed, it was as if Will had already left, was not a physical presence to the client anymore. Again, not a new experience for Will but it prickled him a little more than he liked to admit in this case. He picked up the buttery soft robe from the floor, pulled it back over himself, and retreated to the door. He did not look back as he left the room. He wanted to.

Downstairs, the bright light in the bathroom was jarring and blew away the few remaining ethereal tendrils of the experience. He thought he would be infinitely glad to be able to pull off the strange mask again, having been so unnerved when first looking into the strange face of it, but he pulled it loose and let the cool air of the bathroom whisper over his warm skin with a twinge of loss. 

He placed both the robe and mask back in the wooden box neatly, wondering with a strange twist in his chest if they would be left out for another, if others had worn it previously and would again. Whether the physical body beneath the adornments mattered at all to the strange client. Whether he should be worried he cared...

Back out now and on the street, walking fast away from the house and letting the cold night air sober himself back up again and shake off the strange evening and the tumult it had thrown his mind into. He decided, as he walked fast, head down and arms folded tightly around himself, that he should not see this client again even if he received a follow up booking request. It scared him now, with the objective clarity of distance, how involved he become with the session, that dangerous little flare of genuine want he had fought. That was appropriate territory for new lovers in any other context but an absolute death knell for the sort of arrangement he was in. That was it, he was done. He hoped the resolution would shake the last of the lingering uneasy feeling tightening his chest as it sank in.

Waiting to cross the road in a few blocks time, he pulled out his phone and tapped the safety password message to his security contact to confirm he was out and safe for this session. Just as he was about to lock the phone again, a message notification dropped in at the top of his screen and his heart kicked at the sender name.  _ Jericho _ . The first line of the message was shown in preview - a request for a further session. Next week.

His first thought was not of his recent decision not to pursue any further sessions with this particular client but instead he wondered if the man still lay - masked, naked, marked with his own pleasure - with his phone or tablet in hand, sending Will this immediate follow up. Still thinking of him after all.  _ Fuck _ . 

Will gritted his teeth as he opened the message, started typing a short but polite explanation - that he did not believe them to be compatible, that there would be no further sessions, the contact details of others Will knew of in the profession who may be more suited - when three jumping dots appeared above his message.  _ Jericho  _ was typing. Will swallowed down hard on the shivery thrill of knowing they were connected again - knew they were both, still not too far apart, looking at either side of the same thread of brief messages. That very thrill made the decision for Will and before he could deliberate or retreat, he hit ‘Send’ on his quick refusal response. 

The dots jumped a few more times and then disappeared. Jericho had stopped typing, apparently deleting the message he had been writing upon seeing Will’s quick reply come in. Will breathed out, a low and slow exhalation which clouded in the night air. Done. He locked his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket, keeping his hand balled around it against the cold night as he continued on his way to his car. The device buzzed gently against his hand within a few steps but he successfully ignored the incoming message. 

For about 30 seconds.

_ Of course. I appreciate the courtesy of your response and understand if you wish to terminate our contract at this point. _

Will was almost disappointed at the easy acceptance. Until the jumping dots reappeared before his eyes.

_ You showed promising stamina and self restraint tonight. Perhaps you could offer me one further kindness and indicate which of the alternate contacts you provided might be your closest equivalent in that regard? I had planned for the next session to prepare myself with your tongue and ride you to completion ( _ my _ completion, of course), therefore I require a hardy replacement.  _

“Oh you  _ fucker _ .” Will muttered, tipping his head back and spitting a few more curses into the silent night for good measure until the fiery haze the words had caused cleared again. No, he was not going to be baited and manipulated this way. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and positively ran the final block to his car. He put the radio on loud on the drive home, humming along to any song he recognised and otherwise aiming to distract his mutinous mind by paying overly detailed attention to every car, gas station and store he passed.

It worked. He made it all the way home suitably distracted, fed the dogs and threw together a grilled cheese for his own supper as they ate and bounded about his legs. It was late and the night outside perfectly dark and crushingly cold, but Will felt restless and itchy so he found himself whistling the pack to attention and heading out into the night with the delighted pack in tow. 

He reached the edge of the woodland before he had his phone in hand again, the glare of the screen even on lowest brightness seemed painfully bright to his adjusting eyes. Squinting to see as he typed, he tapped a quick message. 

_ Same place? _

He had not expected a reply so late but one came almost immediately. The client was still up.

_ Are you offering yourself after all, or is this to pass to a suitable alternative? _

Will narrowed his eyes.

_ Me. One more session. Only one more. _

Another immediate response, too quick to even conjure the dots.

_ Of course. _

Will only restrained himself from replying ‘I mean it’ with the knowledge of how childish he would sound. 

A further message pinged into view. It was a different address this time. And below it, a single line.

_ Different place. Same rules. The mask will be left out for you.  _

Will gazed at the message for a long time, so much so that when he looked away back into the dark he found himself utterly blind to any details around him. 

There was just the whispering of the trees in the light wind, the rustle of his dogs and the thrumming of blood in his ears. He whistled the dogs to order and headed back towards his house - a glowing sanctuary in the sea of swaying dark around him. He had work to do before next week now. He hadn’t planned on needing to build out a profile for this client, thinking he would not be seeing him again (told himself,  _ promised  _ himself he wouldn’t), but if he would even see him once more he wanted time to prepare, to start feeling his way down the gossamer strands of his insight to the spider at the centre and start to see something of the true man behind the stag’s face.    
  



End file.
